The Shape of Things to Come Pt 1
by Linda Atkinson
Summary: The final showdown between the Winchesters and the YED ends differently than John thought. He lives with the consequences. John/Dean slash. Violence, rape, domestic abuse, drug use.
1. Chapter 1

The Shape of Things to Come. Pt 1

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Demon Dean/John

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: Darkfic. Rape mentioned but not explicitly portrayed. Out of character behavior. Violence. Coerced sex. Drug use. Attempted suicide. Character Death, no happy endings in this one.

Summary: Demons are slowly taking over the world. John lives with the results of his obsession.

Thanks once again to Sioux_Sioux for beta on the story.

It was dim in the penthouse apartment. The twilit skies were awash with pink and purple clouds as the rain cleared away for the first time in days. That had been one of the hardest things for him to get used to, the new climate. Apparently demons loved cooler weather. Of course, it was a minor thing very small compared to the other things that had happened. Some of them so chilling that John Winchester shuddered, involuntarily, and tried to blot them out of his mind. Sighing he wandered over to the large leather sofa and clicked on the television. The news was a far cry from the free-press, first amendment newscasts of only a year ago. The demon controlled press was more guarded in reporting

events especially if they involved the demonic take-over going on. He winced as the red-eyed, slightly out of focus face of the demon newscaster flickered onto the screen, even his Armani suit and oh so tasteful tie couldn't detract from his overt alienness. Not for the first time John wished that he could not see the demon for what he really was.

"Alienness?" John thought to himself distractedly. "Was that even a word?"

John tried to focus on the more familiar and comforting appearance of the human woman sitting beside the demon. Shifting he let the cool silk of the pajamas he wore distract him for a moment. Designer label whisper soft silk, only the most expensive and best could clothe him now, Dean made certain of that. John shuddered again. Dean would be home in a little while, ready for dinner, talk and later sex. John had almost gotten used to the homey lie that his life had become and that made him shiver again. Dean had once told him to just "get over it." He carefully pulled the black silk sleeves over his arms and the not quite faded red welts that crossed each wrist, thick bands of scar tissue. He had tried to "get over it" once, but Dean had kept John from it.

Now he didn't try anymore. He couldn't anyway they had the power to heal. He supposed he had just given up. John was restless, bored. He didn't work anymore. God forbid that the 'domestic partner' of the almighty Dean Winchester should sully himself with common work. He had his charity-work he supposed. Political stuff Dean wanted him to do, so they looked more normal. With an aggravated sigh John walked over to the huge mahogany desk, so highly polished that it made him wince and sat down. But the flyers for the company's charity events had been finished that morning.

Idly John flipped through the pages of the newspaper. It was a lot thinner than it once had been, and mostly filled with non-descript social news. Since the Demons had began crossing over in larger numbers and infiltrating human organizations the news had shifted from war and terrorism to more mundane things. Most people were still not aware of the fact that demons were taking over the world. But many human/demon hybrids, like Dean, were working their way into high places.

Dean was now one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the United States. John frowned; Dean as a corporate big shot, that was something John had never thought that he would see. But Dean Winchester was one of the Elite. Human hybrids that were much more powerful than full demons, at least, in this physical plane of existence. John winced, his whole life since Mary died had been spent in pursuit of the thing that would ultimately destroy his entire world, taking his sons, his hope and, at times, even his sanity.

There was a soft knock at the wall of the living room, and a figure appeared carrying a tray with a teapot and fragile bone-china dishes. Beside the teapot was a plate of cakes, soft and delectable. Dean made sure that every thing that John touched was beyond compare.

John turned toward the middle-aged woman who settled the tray on the table. She was fairly new to the household, but he remembered seeing her working in the casino beneath the hotel, after he and the boys worked that last and ultimately life-altering job, after they had first arrived in Vegas. "Isabel, you didn't have to bring this in. I'll get dinner when Dean gets home."

"No, Senor John. You haven't eaten all day and Senor Winchester will be very angry with me if you get sick again. You eat this, its good if I say so myself. I made it this morning just for you." She smiled a strained little smile at him. John signed nodding.

"I don't want him to get angry at you either," she added, clucking a little, adjusting the napkin and pouring the sweet tea. John studiously avoided looking at her face, but he felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. He didn't reprimand her. She wasn't blind. She'd seen the bruises.

John finished eating the cakes; the sweet taste of honey washed away by the tea, and pushed the chair back. He poured more tea out of the pot, blowing on it to cool it. Carefully John picked up a small paper cup and downed the blue tablet in it. Dean kept him supplied with his "medication" and in a few minutes John would be more settled. He glanced at the clock on the wall, a quarter till six; Dean would be coming up from his office downstairs. John tried not to notice that his hand was shaking when he picked up the cup again.

He rose, feeling the movement tug at his hip, and a sharp pain jolted down his left leg. He limped a little when he walked, a reminder of the first night after Dean was changed by killing the demon. The night that John had thought his twenty year hunt was finally over, and the night that, to his horror, he found everything was just beginning. The night that Dean had almost beaten John to death, breaking both his legs in the process, then raped him for the first time…

_The Impala sat crushed against the hood of the truck as Dean kicked the door open. Sammy and his Dad lay across the front seat, bleeding and still, but Dean could just make out the shallow rise and fall of their chests as both men drew in weak gasps of breath. He reached over the seat, and John raised his head. Eyes flickering open the older man pushed the gun into his son's hand watching as Dean staggered out of the car, one arm hanging uselessly by his side. John reached out again pushing his fingers gently against Sam's neck, smiling when he felt the thump, thump of his younger son's pulse. _

_It took more effort than he thought possible but John got the door open, and half-fell half-rolled out of the car. He had to lean against the side of the Impala, keeping one hand on the side, then the hood as he staggered around the car, and followed Dean to where the trucker stood, unmoving in the grass._

_The demon possessed trucker grinned, first at Dean and then at John. With a low chuckle he turned on John._

_"Remember that old saying about being careful what you wish for, old man? This just might fall under that category. Come on sonny, do what you were meant to do."_

_John frowned, all this time he had expected Sam to be the one the demon was after, now it looked as if it was Dean he should have been worried about. All those years of carefully guarding his secret and it was nothing but a lie. A hint of doubt crossed John's mind, and he raised a hand trying to catch Dean's attention. Suddenly Dean fired the Colt._

_The demon spewed out of the trucker's body in a roiling hurricane. The wind hit Dean swirling around him, bits of black cloud dancing on the wind, not dissipating but molding itself to Dean, sinking into him, changing him._

_He stood up, healed, skin firm and smooth and strong, no traces of the life threatening injuries that had riddled his body before. John staggered back, trying to run, but the gunshot wound in his leg slowed him. He flinched in pain, crying out and fell._

_Dean was over him in an instant and John shuddered. Dean was completely healed; his face the same as John had always known, but there was a light in his eyes. They didn't go completely yellow like a possessed man's would, but it was there just under the skin. Dean was not right. In a minute John discovered just how wrong things had gone._

_With a careless gesture Dean reached out stroking one fingertip down John's jaw, scratching through the rough stubble. John jerked his head away._

_"Dean, what's wrong? We've got to get your brother to the hospital, what happened to you? I know how hurt you were."_

_"I haven't felt better in years, Dad." _

_Dean pushed his fingers against John's face, turning his head, and then he pulled back. The punch rocked John's head sending him reeling. He tied to crawl away from his son, but Dean moved after him. Kicking and hitting John too many times for the older man to count. He gasped, pain racking his body as he tried to drag himself away._

_With a sneer Dean grabbed John by the front of his shirt._

_"I was your good little solider, Dad. I never walked out; I did what you wanted, and all the time you just used me to protect Sammy. And when he walked away, you just let him go, but I stayed to watch your back. Do you want to know why I stayed, Dad? It wasn't out of loyalty, not even obedience, and sure as hell not for Mom. I stayed because I loved you. I still love you John. It's just lately that I've come to realize that I loved you in a different way than most men love their fathers. You know why John? Because I want to fuck you. Did you ever think about that? Did you ever think about me wanting to fuck you, John, because you'd better think about it now? And I'm going to keep on fucking you, as long and as hard, and what ever way I want. And you're going to spread your legs and take it or I'll make sure that your precious little baby boy pays for it, got it John?"_

_His father screamed as Dean's fingers twisted into the gunshot wound in John's leg. He kicked out trying to loosen Dean's hold, but his son's hands were like iron. The sickening sound of bone breaking came to John's ears before the pain even hit him. He writhed on the ground trying to fight, trying to gain some kind of a foothold, a means of escape and it was all for nothing. Dean's hand grasped his left hip, holding him down, foot resting on his shin. The snapping sound seemed far too quiet for all the pain he felt, and John retched. Dean just smiled and rolled him onto his stomach._

_When it was over John lay weakly on the ground, too stunned to even cry. His throat was hoarse from screaming, and every inch of his body was alive with pain. It coursed through him like electricity jangling his nerves and making him jitter like a broken puppet. He looked up at his son, standing so calmly, smiling serenely as he fastened the buttons on his jeans. _

_After a while, John had lost all track of time, Dean came to where he lay. He reached out gentling his father with softly murmured words and light pats. When John had sunk into semi-consciousness Dean tugged on the broken leg, the pain flared like a light bulb coming on and John moaned. In a few minutes he was aware of soft warmth that suffused his body. The leg felt better, experimentally he bent his knee. Dean worked on the other leg, healing the break and the gunshot wound. He fingered John's belly and the warmth spread, seeping into him, and he knew what ever internal injuries he had suffered were healed. Whether he could not or did not, just because he wanted John to still be in some pain, Dean healed the worst of the injuries leaving only the bruising. After he was finished healing most of John's injuries he placed both hands on John's shoulders and pushed a white hot bolt of lightening into him. John didn't realize what Dean had done until much later when he finally was able to look at himself in a mirror. Dean had made John younger, probably no more than forty at the most._

_When he had finished with John, Dean turned his attention to Sam. In a few minutes the younger man was sitting by the side of the road in the grass huddled together with his father as Dean checked the semi over to see if it was still operational. _

_After they made it to town things really began to change. If Dean had been good at hustling pool and cards before the transformation he was fantastically good now. Soon they had more money than they had ever had in their lives. Dean kept making money and investing it in different projects. Soon he owned several businesses, and then the 'business associates' began showing up. John knew what they were immediately, but Dean acted as if they were old buddies. John and Sam kept their mouths shut too scared for each other to make trouble. _

_Sam had told John that first few weeks had been a sort of nightmare period for him; especially the first time he had actually witnessed his brother raping their father. It almost pushed him over the edge, but they both learned that John suffered more if Sam tried to interfere so he just settled into a kind of numb acceptance and tried to offer John as much comfort as he could. John particularly remembered Dean's smile when he said, "As long as you cooperate John, Sammy will be safe."_

They both stopped trying to fight Dean after that.

After John had been subjected to the same treatment again and again he realized that Dean could hurt him and heal him as often as necessary to keep him in line. And if he didn't behave Sammy was there for Dean as well. He supposed he had a nervous breakdown sometime after that, but the pills helped calm him into a drugged equilibrium. Now he didn't try to fight anything Dean did. Sex with his own son was just another part of his existence. He hated himself sometimes when he spread his legs for Dean, but it was better than the pain. And Dean had told him the truth Sammy had always been kept safe so long as John cooperated.

The front door of the apartment opened and Dean strolled in, laughing at something his right-hand man, Kyle, had said. Kyle and Dean were followed by another man, Mike, Dean's driver. Both men were of the large, no neck variety and both had suspicious looking bulges under their jackets. John knew that Kyle was a full demon, but he kept his human appearance in place because John tended to freak out when he let the red-eyes and soft-focus blurring bleed through his human face. John could hear other movement in the hallway as well.

Dean walked over and John flinched a bit when Dean's hand fell on his father's shoulder. John tilted his head back for the obligatory kiss, and Dean's lips fastened over his. John accepted the kiss and Dean smiled at him warmly.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, John," Dean said smiling, but it never touched his eyes. With a jovial grin Dean glanced over at Kyle. "Isn't it good to see John feeling better?"

"Yeah boss, it's real good. How are you doing tonight, Mr. Winchester?" Kyle offered John a thin smile, making sure to seem genuinely warm and caring.

"_Fucking Demon_," _John thought._ "_If I only had some holy water and rock salt_."

Dean gripped John's shoulder tight enough to make him wince. And John knew that the thought had bled out. It didn't happen often, but when it did he regretted it immediately. Kyle was smiling broadly now, for the first time looking like he really meant it, eyes glued to where Dean's fingers were digging into John's flesh. John sighed, eyes dropping closed.

"I'm fine, Kyle. Thank you for asking."

Dean released John, chuckling. "What's for dinner, honey?"

"I'm pretty sure Isabel made prime rib, the way you like it," John said stiffly. Dean would make a show of eating the meal with John, but he wouldn't really consume much of the food, saving his appetite for later when he would eat with the demons. And if John wanted to be able to eat dinner he really couldn't think about what they would be feeding on.

John settled in the chair, pulling his plate over. Isabel had really outdone herself with the food. Kyle was standing just inside the door and he looked over as another, younger, man came in the room. John barely glanced up at the newcomer. He was also a demon, but recently crossed into the human plane and he had difficulty keeping his human features in place. John glared at him then settled on trying to ignore the two demons in favor of keeping his dinner down.

The younger man kept his eyes glued on John until Kyle nudged him, none to gently, in the ribs. Finally, he turned to Kyle grinning slyly. "Is the human for us? I'd like to have a go at him one way or another…."

"Whoa," Kyle hissed, "You keep your distance from him. That's the boss's piece of ass you're talking about. We don't touch him for any reason, got it? If he gets upset and you need someone to handle him you get one of the humans, but we don't lay a hand on him."

John blanched at being referred to as Dean's 'piece of ass' but he supposed that was all he really was anymore. Certainly, if Dean hadn't harbored that sick little secret of longing to bed his own father, John would have been dead by his own son's hand almost two years ago.

The younger looking demon, John had no idea if demons actually aged like humans, moved closer to the table and leaned against a chair back. He made a movement as if he intend to touch John and suddenly John lunged from the chair flinging salt from the salt cellar on the demon and muttering, "Christo!"

The demon howled in rage as the salt bit into his skin like acid. John grinned, and Kyle hustled out the dining room door, running to fetch Dean. The younger demon clutched at his face, and John could see the oozing sores where the salt had eaten into his skin. He smiled and sneered.

"You were warned about touching me. You should have listened."

With a snarl the demon lashed out, grabbing John by the wrist. Jerking hard he laughed when the bone in the human's arm cracked. John cried out trying to pull free, but the demon closed the distance between them laughing as if he was enjoying the fight. John jerked his arm away.

"Two years ago you wouldn't have been laughing when I walked into the room," John said angrily.

The demon tilted his head back. "Two years ago you wouldn't have made it into the room."

The demon closed the distance between them again, one hand working itself under John's shirt. John bit back a whimper when the demon's claws bit into the skin of his chest. With a snarl the demon pulled John forward closing his lips over John's mouth. John bit him, and the demon slapped him hard enough to send John sprawling. He pulled back as if he intended to kick John and the human huddled trying to protect his belly and groin. Quickly, the young demon reached down, ripping the black silk shirt, baring John's chest.

"First I'm going to fuck you and then I'm going to rip the skin off your bones while you're still alive. Got that?"

John glanced up, then caught sight of Dean standing in the door way. Dean was frowning, still trying to take in the sight of one of his men, face ruined, standing over his father's prone form and John disheveled and breathing hard lying on the floor. Finally, he came over taking John by the arm.

"What happened?"

His grip tightened until tears sprang into John's eyes. His fingers dug into the skin of John's bicep and blood leaked through the silk shirt. John cried out.

"Haven't you been told not to throw _things_ in the apartment?" Dean shook John making him whimper.

"He touched me, he said he was going to fuck me and then kill me."

Dean dropped John's arm moving to stand before the younger appearing man.

"You were told never to touch John. Do you think I was fucking kidding about that?" He gestured at the older man. "That belongs to me. Do you understand?"

Dean raised a hand, closing his fingers and the demon jerked. Suddenly his head blurred, vibrating first vertically then horizontally. His body rose in the air convulsing spasmodically. The demon shrieked in anger and fear. He blurred as if he was out of sync with the rest of the room, and John knew the demon was caught between his plane and the physical dimension, something which was extremely painful for them. Dean held the younger man suspended between dimensions letting him hiss and scream in anger and pain before thrusting his arm out and slamming the demon into the wall. His body sagged and the black cloud of vapor that was the demon's true form spewed into the air, dissipating as the demon died.

Dean knelt down beside John gently lifting his arm. He healed the break and the gouges he had made on John's biceps before pulling the shirt away and healing the claw marks the younger demon had left. He pulled John to his feet, and then glanced at the table. At least John had eaten most of his meal. Dean constantly watched to make sure he ate properly since John's meds kept him from being hungry much of the time. He slid his arm around John's waist and led him to the bedroom.

The huge bed sat mid-point in the far wall across from their north facing wall that was one large window. They had a breath-taking view of the Strip and far into the distance for miles. Dean pulled the comforter down, and sat John on the bed. He went through the drawers of John's dresser pulling out an almost identical pair of silk pajamas in dark blue. He hustled John into the clothes and put him to bed. "I'll have Isabel bring you some warm tea and your sleeping pills. Okay?"

John nodded grateful that he didn't have to deal with Dean or his 'business colleagues' after that. Still, when he considered where Dean was going and what he would be doing John just wanted to keep his son with him. Twisting his fingers into Dean's shirt he whispered.

"Don't go out tonight. Stay here, please."

Dean looked torn, obviously aware of his desire to comfort John, but doubly aware of the demon standing in the hallway just out of John's line of sight. John could sense Dean's confusion and used the one thing that he had to offer that Dean never refused. Leaning forward he stroked his fingers down Dean's chest.

"Make love to me."

"I'm just going to close the door, I'll be right back." Dean leaned forward kissing John's cheek. He pulled the bedroom door half way closed jerking his head at Kyle. "I'm going to stay here for a little while. Go in the living room and wait, I'll come out after I get him settled down. We can go downstairs then."

The demon grinned as if he knew just how Dean was going to settle John down, and shrugged his broad shoulders. He disappeared around the corner, as Dean pulled the door to the bedroom shut.

Stripping his tie and jacket off Dean dropped them on the sofa beside the window wall. He pushed a button and the curtains slid back opening the room to the night sky and the brilliantly lit city. John slid out of his pajamas and pulled the blankets down. He reached into the drawer of the night table placing a tube on Dean's side of the bed.

Dean slid into bed beside John and leaned forward for a kiss. John responded as eagerly as he could manage. He had gotten pretty good at faking it, but Dean would want more since John had asked him to stay.

At first John was not able to function sexually with Dean, he almost never got hard and, if he did, he rarely came. Dean just used John anyway. But John's mind began to slip, and he had been confined to his room, finally needing to be sedated for much of the time almost a year ago, then came the suicide attempt and Dean had gotten smart enough to realize that even threatening Sam was no good if John died. So he had gotten smarter, the drugs relaxed John, kept him off balance and made him easier to manipulate.

Now almost a year later John was responsive enough that Dean could coax an erection out of him and made sure he came. But John was usually passive. Dean could live with that. Passive meant controllable.

Tonight John was being more active. He rose up to meet Dean, kissing him. And when Dean slid into him, he moaned pushing his hips up to meet Dean's thrusts. Dean groaned. Even with all the problems he had had in the past, being inside his father was one of the sweetest pleasures in his life. Not that he didn't find companionship elsewhere when he wanted it, but John was special, truly the only thing left in the world that Dean loved.

He took his time, savoring the act almost as if he believed that John had really wanted to make love. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table Dean decided that he had stayed as long as he wanted. He used his hand to make John come, then thrust his way to orgasm.

Afterwards, Dean held John for a while, before rising and using the intercom to call the housekeeper in and make sure that she brought John's sleeping pills in. She came into the room ignoring the fact that Dean was standing beside the bed stark naked and the bed was rumpled. She pulled the blankets up around John and gave him the pills and warm tea. Dean dressed as if she wasn't even there.

John was already drowsy, the orgasm and the pills working together to put him to sleep. He sighed reaching across the bed, looking for Dean. The other side of the bed was empty and John shuddered. At least he had delayed the inevitable, kept his son human just a little bit longer. But he felt a familiar bone-deep numbness settling inside him again. Not realizing that Dean was still in the room, John rummaged in the drawer and found the small kitchen knife that Isabel had left on his breakfast tray a few days ago. The blade was only four inches long but the knife was as sharp as a razor.

He struggled to sit up propping his back against the headboard. The lights from the window glinted on the silver blade, until John pressed the edge to his left wrist. Blood welled, spilling over the metal and leaking onto his thigh where he cradled his arm in his lap.

Suddenly, the bed jerked behind John and the knife flew out of his fingers skittering across the silk duvet cover and smearing a long steak of blood on the cloth. Dean's face was twisted with rage. He jerked John's arm up, pressing his fingers against the cut. John screamed trying to jerk his hand away, and Dean slapped him across the face.

"Where did you get that? I told Isabel that you were never to have access to anything with a blade. Did she give it to you?"

He jerked John up onto his knees. With a shaking hand Dean pushed a bolt of white energy into the cut wrist and the edges sealed together. He glanced at the blood spotting the sheets, carpet and John's leg. It wasn't that much. John was pretty much out on his feet, the pills having finally taken effect. Dean shoved him down on the bed, jerking the duvet up and tucking it around his father's prone form.

"Kyle," Dean screamed, picking the knife up from the top of the bed. He slammed the bedroom door open. Hurrying down the hall Dean yelled again, "Kyle, get that bitch out of the kitchen, and bring her downstairs."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Shape of Things to Come. Pt 2

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Demon Dean/John

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: Darkfic. Rape mentioned but not explicitly portrayed. Out of character behavior. Violence. Coerced sex. Drug use. Attempted suicide.

Summary: Demons are slowly taking over the world. John lives with the results of his obsession.

Kyle hustled the woman out of the apartment and down the hallway to the service elevator. She looked around terrified as the doors opened and Dean stepped in behind them.

"Please Mr. Winchester, I don't understand. What happened?" Isabel was crying, and Dean felt rage wash over him. He grabbed her arm jerking her around. Shaking her Dean pulled the paring knife out of his pocket. She flinched at the rust colored stains on the blade, and Dean's suit pocket. Whirling he shoved the knife at her face, and she shrank back. Raising a hand Isabel made a movement as if to protest but Dean shoved her into Kyle's arms.

"You were told never to let John have a knife. If he eats anything that needs cutting you cut it up before you give it to him. You've been in the household long enough to understand that John has _problems._ How did he end up with a kitchen knife, Isabel?" Dean snarled.

"I don't know. I make sure that all of the knives are locked in the cabinet like you said. I even count them. He never comes into the kitchen. I always bring his meals out to the dining room or the bedroom if he doesn't want to come out and eat. You know Senor Winchester; I watch to make sure that he eats, like you said. I don't even remember one of the knives being missing. Please, I didn't give it to him. I never would. I don't want to see Senor John hurt."

The elevator opened into the casino. The room was huge, all warm burgundy and soft gold tones. Even at nearly midnight hundreds of people were still wandering the casino, the slot machines were full, card tables in full swing. The bar was crowded to capacity. Dean stopped pulling Kyle up short with him.

Kyle glanced around at the full room.

"You want me to take her downstairs, boss?"

"No take her to my office. I'll deal with her later. Right now I've got to see a couple of people."

Dean watched as Kyle hustled the woman into the corridor behind the bar that ran down to his private office.

At one of the poker tables sat a tall, distinguished-looking older man. He was well dressed in an expensive suit that complimented his steel gray hair and cold blue eyes. Beside him sat a middle-aged woman also well dressed. She was tossing back shots of tequila like it was water, and drinking the good stuff too. Her face was carefully made-up but that was not enough to stave off advancing age. Her auburn hair was coiled around a diamond and gold comb, which matched her glimmering silk dress. She cocked her head at Dean.

"Why Dean, honey. How are you?" she asked her voice slurring.

She looked around as if expecting someone else to be joining them. Dean smiled.

"Patty, darling, you're looking great," he said leaning in to kiss her cheek.

The fumes from the tequila hit him hard, and he almost coughed. The older man looked annoyed.

"Oh, don't hang all over the guy," he snapped.

Dean made a motion to sooth the man.

"Now Dave, you know I don't mind a pretty lady hanging all over me."

"And yet you sleep with another man," Patty said nastily. "Does he hang all over you too?"

"No," Dean said with a sly grin, letting his hand slide over her left breast. If Shaffer cared, or even noticed, that Dean was groping her he didn't say a word. "I hang all over him."

Her laughter was a little too bright and hard, like the edge of a broken shard of glass. Dean felt himself growing annoyed, but he took a deep breath. Patty was Judge Shaffer's wife, and a Superior Court judge was a useful thing to have in your pocket. He waved the waiter over and ordered the Shaffers a complimentary bottle of champagne. Patty was smashed, but Dave was keeping a straight head. He was losing badly anyway. Just like Dean liked it.

He floated from table to table talking briefly with the assembled throngs of people. Most of those he chatted with were politically well connected, at least in Vegas. Judges, local politicians people who he could use, and who all wanted to use him in return.

But Shaffer was important. He was the judge in charge of the jurisdiction that Dean did most of his questionable activities in. John and Dean had been staunch supporters during the election, giving several fund-raising dinners for Shaffer's re-election campaign at the casino. And Dean was certain that Shaffer had a more than passing interest in getting into John's pants. It hadn't come down to that yet, but if Dean had too he would make sure that John was a lot friendlier to Shaffer in the future.

With a smile Dean excused himself and headed to the office where he would have to deal with Isabel. He was annoyed that John had gotten one of the knives, but no real harm had been done, this time. Dean had been there and taken care of it quickly, on the other hand if Dean hadn't been there it would have been a lot harder to deal with, reanimation rarely worked out well.

Dean was a little concerned about John's mental stability, but he thought he could gloss this over, smooth the rough edges in John's mind. Frankly, John had been so stoned on sleeping pills he probably wouldn't remember anything in the morning anyway. Except John would have the new scar on his wrist as a reminder. He frowned. John liked Isabel and she did do a good job taking care of him. Dean wasn't willing to write his father off yet. Even if he hated to admit it, it was still in love with John, and had no desire to give him up.

Opening the door Dean stalked into the room. Kyle was standing beside the window looking out. Isabel sat in a chair, face taut with fear. Dean tapped his finger on the desk, then walked around and sat down.

"Isabel, I know that John is really fond of you. Believe me that is a big mark in your favor. If he wasn't…you understand that a man in my position has to be careful about employees. I can't afford to have people screw up. You were told about John. When I first hired you I told you that John sometimes, well, he gets confused about things. And I told you, last year he tried to hurt himself. Well, he did it again tonight. Normally, I'm not a forgiving man, but like I said John is pretty fond of you and I don't want to make him more confused by having to bring in a new caretaker. I'm willing to put this aside tonight, for his sake, but believe me I won't do it again."

She looked stunned and shaken. Isabel was no fool; she understood that Mr. Winchester was not the ordinary casino-owner and business man he made himself out to be. He was very young yet he was extremely successful and extremely powerful. She thought he had connections with the mafia, certainly the men and women who were constantly in and out of the casino seemed to be connected to some very powerful organization. Dean flaunted his wealth and authority over these people as if he was not afraid of anyone. In a society that was not overly accepting of alternative lifestyles Dean kept his lover with him all the time. John was a very big part of Dean's life. And whether people liked it or not Dean made no effort to hide or apologize for his relationship with the older man.

The casino was becoming a focal point in Vegas for all of the Winchester Inc. business.

Isabel sat staring at Dean. She had believed that he might have her killed. There had been others who had crossed Dean Winchester and had never seen the light of day to do it again. The police watched him, she was sure of it, but no one ever turned up a shred of proof that Dean was involved in any of the disappearances and no bodies had ever been found.

Isabel stood shivering in the cold, air-conditioned office as Kyle watched her with an unreadable expression on his face, as if he was just waiting for Dean to give the word and she would be gone. Gone and pretty much forgotten like all of the others. Sighing Dean thrust a finger at her.

"Go back upstairs to the apartment, check on John. You had better be very careful Isabel. I'm making it your responsibility to see that John stays healthy."

"Yes, Mr. Winchester," she whispered.

Kyle stepped aside and she left the room. Shaking Isabel leaned against the wall waiting for the elevator. She ducked inside and pushed the button for the top floor. The walk down the hall was a nightmare, on all sides Isabel ran into the strange men and women who always seemed to be cluttering the hallways. The men and women who seemed to suddenly appear almost nightly, the people who looked liked shadows sometimes, as if they didn't really belong in the world.

When she reached the door to the apartment Isabel pushed it open, and scurried inside. She never really thought about it but the Winchesters rarely locked the door. It never bothered her before, they had security people all over the place, but maybe it was because Dean was involved with people who were so powerful that no one would dare to trespass in his home.

Taking her apron off Isabel walked into the kitchen, and hung it over the backer's rack lining one wall. She took the left-over tea she had made for John and poured herself a cup. It was lukewarm at best but she loaded it with honey and lemon and sat at the breakfast table with the cup cradled in her trembling hands. She had come very close to losing her life, yet she dared not utter a word to anyone.

After she felt more settled she went into the bedroom to check on John. She felt sorry for him. He was as much a prisoner in the house as she. And she knew he had been treated badly. She washed his clothes and the bed sheets and she knew that there was often blood on both.

John let out a breathy sigh, and rolled onto his back. And Isabel smiled. He was a good-looking man, not good looking like Dean who was what she called Movie Star good-looking, but sturdy looking, with an underlying sense of duty and honor. And he was always kind.

Isabel tugged the blankets up, tucking them around John's body. He raised his head, and looked at her. She gave him a gentle pat on the arm.

"Are you okay, Senor John?'"

"Yes, is Dean home?"

"No, Mr. Winchester is in his office downstairs."

John turned frowning, and tried to read the clock.

"It's almost one a.m. you had better go to bed."

"I will. Do you need anything else?"

When he shook his head she rose and walked across the room. He sat up and motioned to the hall lights.

"Leave one of the lights on in the living room, please. I don't want it too dark in here. I need to be able to see…"

"See what, Senor John?"

"The demons, Isabel. I need to watch for the demons that are crossing over."

With a frown Isabel wondered if they might have to lock him up again. But she offered him a tight smile.

"I'll leave the light on. If you need me, call me on the intercom."

Dean rose and nodded Kyle out the door. He locked his office and pocketed the keys. Ignoring everyone around them the two men walked briskly through the casino to the service area beside the kitchens. At the end of the corridor was a doorway, also locked. Dean used his keys to unlock the door, and then pulled it closed from the inside locking it as well. They took the service elevator down to the basement.

Most of the basement was filled with normal equipment. There were three large breaker boxes for all of the electrical fixtures in the building, and four large furnaces and an entire bank of hot waters heaters that were fueled by natural gas. There was also a large central water tank that fed the sprinkler system. At the far end of the room was a second set of doors above ramps that led to a raised platform. The platform was surrounded on all sides by chain link fence. In the center of the floor was a shallow concave pit with a huge grate-covered floor drain. Several huge hoses were hung from pipes at a man's shoulder level, one at each of corner of the platform.

Inside the fence running the perimeter of the platform was a brick ledge that could sever as a bench. Set in the middle of the inside wall the bench was wider and had a large second step, on the step was a granite chair.

As Dean and Kyle walked up the ramp Dean could see that the platform was already occupied by about thirty of the demons that Dean had brought over from the other plane. The men and women looked so human in the dim light that if he had not been trained by a hunter of his father's tracking abilities, and had Dean still been fully human he would not have been able to tell anything was odd about the assembled throng.

In the center of the concave pit stood a small group of humans. Three men and four women huddled naked in the cold air. Dean let himself and Kyle into the cage, and watched the expectant looks on the demons' faces turned toward him. Dean could almost feel their adoration as he ascended the platform and took his place on the raised seat.

If the humans expected Dean to make any speeches or if they expected to be allowed to plead for their lives, or to even say anything at all they were disappointed. Dean didn't even bother making any overt motions. The demons just waited until he was seated and fell on their prey. With thirty demons it didn't' take very long to dismember seven human beings. Dean didn't move. Kyle was there to take his share and make sure that the boss was given his due. He sat with a smile on his face watching his people feed. After a few minutes he rose. When Kyle looked up Dean just waved him back to his meal.

"Come up later. I'm going to check on John."

He didn't worry about cleaning up. The demons knew what to do. The hoses were high powered enough to take care of most of the mess, and what was left would go into the furnaces.

Dean walked back to the elevator. He was clean enough that should he run into anyone nothing would look amiss. With a grin he pushed the button for the penthouse. Well, there were seven less detractors in his midst. Word in Vegas was anyone who took on Dean Winchester would get eaten alive; of course, no one really knew just how true that

was.

John was still asleep when Dean let himself in. The demons in the basement would spend the rest of the night on the streets of Vegas, running the night-time side of the business, extortion, drug dealing, prostitution anything that would bind the human population and keep them distracted from what was really happening in the world.

Dean had promised John that he would keep Sam out of the business, that he would keep Sam's powers dampened down and not let him turn. But that was becoming a difficult thing to do. He wasn't paying for Stanford Law School for nothing. Even if Sam wasn't converted to a demon having a good lawyer was essential for the business, and Sam had the family ties to John that made him ideal for the job. He would be as easy to control. John had whined incessantly about keeping Sam away from all this, but Dean just didn't see how that was possible anymore.

Grunting he slid across the bed, and pulled John onto his side. John grumbled, and then relaxed as Dean panted harshly in his ear.

"Be still."

Dean fumbled John's pajama bottoms off, and pushed his top leg forward enough to gain access. John was still loose and slick from earlier so Dean slid inside without a problem. John grunted once and Dean wrapped his arm tightly around his father's waist, holding him down. With a growl he used his teeth to pull the shirt away from John's shoulder and then bit down on the soft flesh at the curve of his neck. The coppery taste of John's blood filled his mouth. John stiffened crying out, and Dean thrust into him hard, coming in a hot rush. Panting he pushed back, and turned over facing the window. If John was crying he didn't hear it.

Dean was in a bad mood the next morning. He paced the length of the living room with a phone in one hand and a cup of strong coffee in the other. Kyle and Mike were standing at the door, tense and silent. Kyle waiting on every move his boss made and Mike staring straight ahead with the look of man who desperately wanted to be somewhere else. Dean had been on the phone to Palto Alto, California for almost an hour, arguing with someone, presumably his brother. John had gone ballistic when he heard Dean mention Sam by name, and was sitting on the couch in sullen silence. Mike thought the older man looked worn, and withdrawn.

Finally, Dean dropped the phone and turned toward the couch. John shrank back, looking at the men standing in the doorway with an air of desperation, but also with no hope of aid or comfort. Kyle stood passively while Dean beat the older man. Mike's hand was shaking and he had to shove it into his pocket. John looked over at him and Mike started to move, but John shook his head, warning the younger man back with a glance. When Dean finally grabbed John and flung him bodily against the wall the younger man stepped forward.

"Mr. Winchester, sir. You're going to kill him."

Whirling Dean raised his hand.

"What business is it of yours, Mike? I pay you to drive the fucking car, other than that, just keep your fucking mouth shut."

But Dean stood back looking down at the body huddled at his feet. John was a mess, and Dean hissed to himself.

"Isabel, get in here. Get him in bed. I'll be there in a minute. Mike, go bring the car around. Kyle we have a meeting at Dave Shaffer's office in half an hour. Call him and tell him I might be a little late."

Trembling Isabel did her best to drag John to his feet. It was difficult, even taking into account the weight he had lost, he was still a big man, and much larger than she. John staggered then managed to get his feet under him. Panting he rose, most of the damage was superficial, no broken bones and no internal injuries that he could tell. Dean followed them into the bedroom, and motioned Isabel to leave. She shot John a terrified look but he nodded for her to leave.

Taking deep breath Dean stripped John down and looked over the worst of the injuries. He healed everything that would be covered by John's clothes. The visible injuries would have to remain since both humans had seen them.

"I have been patient with you, John. But I won't stand for you interfering with my business, and I need Sam. I have almost three thousand followers…"

"Demons," John spat, and Dean raised his fist.

Cowed John shrank back against the headboard and lowered his gaze.

"Get over it," Dean snarled.

"You promised me that Sammy would be safe. You told me that you would keep his powers dampened down, keep him from turning, and keep him away from all this so he doesn't have to see…I let you do things to me no man's son should do to him."

With a sneer Dean rose.

"I don't know where this annoying independent streak is coming from John. But it had better stop. Do I need to have your meds adjusted? Do you want to be in the back bedroom again, in restraints?"

"No, please."

John shuffled onto his knees grasping Dean's arm. The younger man smiled.

"Please, I'll behave."

"Good… because I love you, John. Just think about what your life would be like if I didn't and how long it just might last. I can't have you making a fuss right now. This Saturday is a big day. I'm shutting the casino and hotel to the public. All of my people who I have summoned are going to be in the hotel, and a few of the humans who I am bringing into the business and I want it go smoothly, John. I expect you to make an appearance as my loving partner. After that you can do as you please. I don't think Sammy will be here that soon, but afterwards I'm calling him home."

John looked aghast. Saturday, he had five days to make sure that Sam stayed safe. He tried to think but the pills kept him disorientated. Finally, shaking his head John rose stiffly off the bed. Dean may have healed the injuries but some of the pain remained. It helped keep John focused. He followed Dean out into the living room.

Isabel had breakfast ready on the table. John sat down looking at the food. He wasn't hungry but he needed to keep his strength up. He picked up the paper cup with his pill in it. Dean was watching so John put the cup to his lips. After second he spit the pill back inside and crumpled the paper up around it. They were accustomed to him crushing the little paper cups so no one thought anything about it.

By noon Dean was gone, and John was eating lunch. He had skipped two doses of the drugs and his hand was shaking so badly that he could barely hold a fork. But he forced himself to eat slowly and methodically. Withdrawal was going to be rough, but his mind was clearer than it had been in the past two years. And he had already decided that Sam was never coming into this.

It had been three days of hell, and John was so nauseated that he could barely stand. He wasn't sure that he could make it. He had been vomiting all morning, and tried to hide it from everyone in the house. He especially didn't want Dean to know. If Dean figured out that John was no longer taking the pills there would be hell to pay.

But by Thursday evening John could tell that the worst was over. The pain and vomiting were easing up. He was actually hungry by dinner time and Dean was pleased that John seemed to be doing better. He sat beside John on the sofa, stroking his back. John took a deep breath and leaned against his son, letting himself be petted.

Bedtime had been a nightmare. No longer dulled by the drugs John had endured sex with Dean fully aware, and it revolted him again. His mind kept flashing back to the first night that Dean had been turned. Dean had just raped him then and whenever he wanted. John had been able to go through the motions enough to keep Dean satisfied, but he burned with shame every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

Dean was asleep beside John, and he turned looking out the window at the Vegas skyline. The brightness of the lights irritated him, and John went to the wall pushing the button that closed the curtains. Pulling on his underwear and a robe John went into the living room. Settling on the sofa he let his head fall forward. He had decided two days ago what he wanted to do to handle the situation with Dean and Sam, and he had been working on handling it. But it was hard. A father never wanted to have to choose between his children. But the average father wouldn't be sitting on a sofa in the dark, with tears running down his face, and his older son's semen still in his body.

John looked down at the ring on his left hand. He was twisting it idly. Not the ring he had worn with Mary, the simple silver band was gone long ago. He had carefully hidden it away in his journal, and that was one thing that Dean would never take from him. In its place was the more ornate gold signet ring that matched the one Dean wore. They weren't wedding rings, but they were enough alike that most people understood the meaning. John looked at the ugly thing, the rough gold band and flat shiny circle in the middle with JW engraved in ornate, flowery script.

He wanted to take it off, but he didn't dare.

"No more," John sighed to himself. "No more Sammy. When you get here I'll be done with this."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Shape of Things to Come. Pt 3

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Demon Dean/John

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: Darkfic. Rape mentioned but not explicitly portrayed. Out of character behavior. Violence. Coerced sex. Drug use. Attempted suicide.

Summary: Demons are slowly taking over the world. John lives with the results of his obsession.

Many thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta work.

When Dean woke up the next morning John was out of bed, and dressed in jeans and a black silk shirt. Actually Dean was sure it was a woman's blouse because John had acquired some eccentric tastes in clothing, but Dean didn't really mind. He rolled out of bed and watched as John purposely put on his shoes and tucked his wallet into his pocket. He spent a few minutes juggling his day planner, pill bottles, cell phone and sunglasses. With a sigh John sat down on the end of the bed.

"I think I should just give up and carry a purse."

Dean smiled.

"You can do anything you want. Believe me no one would say a word."

John flinched and Dean hurriedly slid down the bed and wrapped his arms around John's waist.

"Going somewhere?"

"I'm going to the Plaza," John said and his tone reminded Dean so much of his father _before_ that for a minute he was struck silent.

Finally with a grin Dean cocked his head. The last time John had gone to the Plaza Dean had ended up with a thirty thousand dollar Visa bill, and an apartment full of new furniture. John thought he was being spiteful, making Dean suffer as a kind of petty revenge. Dean knew exactly what John was doing, and he just laughed it off. The truth was that John had absolutely no idea just how much money Dean had, and he considered it money well spent if John worked out some of his aggression on the Visa card and not the employees_. _The last thing he wanted was one more incident with the salt shaker.

"I'll call down and have Mike get out the car."

"It's three blocks. I can walk," John said frowning.

Dean took a deep breath and counted to ten. He didn't want to discourage John from going out. He rarely did, but there were safety concerns. Dean wasn't the only hybrid out there. He had competition, just because he was more successful than most it didn't meant that he was in the clear. John would make a good target for those less successful out there looking to move up.

"You can walk if you take Kyle with you," Dean said. "Or you can go in the car and have Mike escort you. That's non-negotiable."

"I'll take Isabel with me," John said finally.

Dean just shook his head.

"Isabel is half your size. There's no way she could fend off anyone. It's either Kyle or Mike, your choice."

"Okay… Mike, but I still want to walk," John sighed as if he was terribly annoyed.

Dean chuckled. He leaned over and kissed John on the lips. John accepted it with equanimity. But he did eat breakfast with considerable relish, and Dean sighed maybe the rough patch was over for a while.

When he was finished eating John grabbed his jacket and yelled.

"Isabel, get your coat. We're going to the Plaza."

She looked up from clearing the table and glanced at Dean. He nodded and she hurriedly put the dishes in the dishwasher and went to the closet to get her coat. She looked at the designer label on the jacket and realized that it was one of the things that John had bought her over the past year. He spent Dean's money fairly freely and Dean didn't say a word. Shrugging she hurried after John and the big man, Mike, who usually drove the Mercedes.

After they got outside the building John struck off across the street toward a large shopping center adjacent to the hotel and casino. At the rear of the lot was a Builder's Barn, a do it yourself place for home repairs. John collected a cart full of odds and ends. Mike didn't say anything just followed the older man around putting various things in the basket. In the end John had assembled an odd collection of copper wire, PVC pipes, fertilizer, heavy duty lamp wicks and screw on caps for the lengths of pipe. To this he added matches, charcoal lighter fluid and some heavy duty duct tape.

Mike was a little worried about some of the stuff John had purchased. The fertilizer was combustible and Mike was concerned about where to store it in the building. He carried the heavy bags back to the casino under John's watchful eyes and stored them on the service loading porch behind the kitchen as instructed. John assuring the younger man that he would come back later and have them taken to where he wanted them.

"You planning on starting a garden on the balcony, Mr. Winchester?" Mike asked affably as he and John tucked the plastic bags into several storage bens. Looking up at the taller man John smiled.

"You can call me John, Mike."

"Uh, no sir, that wouldn't be proper," Mike replied and John shrugged.

Actually now that Mike thought about it he wondered why John was Mr. Winchester. He knew that Dean's last name was Winchester. He'd seen it on enough documents he had delivered. He didn't think, at least he hoped that Dean and John weren't related in some way. Because he knew that Dean and John had sex, hell they'd done it in the backseat of the car on a couple of occasions, while he was driving. And they weren't the first couple he driven that had done it either. But he also knew that it was impossible for Dean and John to be married. So he figured that John had just taken the name Winchester.

He also knew that John wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders either. He seemed to be doing okay today, though looking at the collection of crap he had bought Mike was beginning to get uneasy.

After they had gone to the store several times John asked Mike to walk with him to the church. He waited outside while John talked to the priest. Mike was surprised because neither he nor Dean seemed overly religious. But when John came out he tucked a rosary into his pocket. Mike shrugged it off. His own mother always carried her rosary beads with her. No big deal.

Dean was busy so he didn't notice at first that John was spending a lot of time out of the apartment. He was annoyed when he couldn't find John anywhere. Finally, he flagged Mike down on one of his many trips to the plaza at John's instruction.

"Where have you been, Mike. I'm a busy man, and I have things to do."

"I'm sorry, boss. The other Mr. Winchester has me running errands picking up his gardening stuff."

"Gardening stuff?" Dean asked frowning. "What is John up too?"

"He's building some kind of an indoor garden as best as I can see. He's been putting fertilizer and stuff together out on the service porch by the kitchen."

"Is he in a safe area, in a place that no one can get to him?"

"Yes, sir. Nobody ever comes out there. And he stores the stuff in the basement by the water tanks."

"It's not against fire codes is it? I don't want any problems with the city fire inspectors."

"Oh, no sir. He keeps it all put up neat, stored away in containers. Kind of small but they seem to be easier for him to handle."

"Well, as long as he's not getting into any trouble." Dean looked at the other man. "Does he seem happy?"

"Happy as a lark."

"Well, then just let him go. I need to you bring the car around. I'm going to Judge Shaffer's office then we'll be back here for the private party at the casino tonight. After you drop me off you come back here and keep an eye on John. You know he wanders mentally sometimes."

"He seems fine and dandy, Mr. Winchester. But I'll watch him."

Just as they were leaving John appeared at the door to the apartment, he grinned at Mike and leaned in kissing Dean on the cheek. Dean sighed.

"You're fifthly. Mike says you're building something in the basement."

John nodded.

"Sort of but I'm all finished right now. I need a shower then I have one more small thing to do before dinner tonight."

Dean nodded distractedly.

"Just be sure that you're dressed by six o'clock. We need to put in an appearance then you can garden to your heart's content."

After he had eaten lunch John dressed in his black suit, and had Isabel help him with his tie. He looked better than he had in along time and she commented on it. John smiled at her. He waited until she was in the kitchen before pulling out his cell phone and dialing the number to the apartment. When the phone rang he grabbed it before she could answer.

"Oh my god," he said, "Isabel that was the Barstow police department. Ana was in a car accident."

Isabel's face went stark white.

"My god, Mr. Winchester, I need to call her."

"She's in the hospital. Mike should be here in a few minutes. I'm going to have him take you to Barstow."

"Oh no, Mr. John. I can take the bus."

"No nonsense," John said smiling gently.

He felt terrible for lying to her, but he wanted Isabel and Mike both out of the building, especially when the demons were all gathered together.

Mike walked in the door, and John caught him by the arm.

"Mike, Isabel's daughter was in a car accident. I want to you to drive her to Barstow."

"That's a five hour drive Mr. Winchester, one way. I won't be back until sometime tomorrow."

"Dean doesn't need the car. We have others, and he can drive if he has to. Just do it. Leave right now, you need to hurry."

John hustled them out the door and actually went to the parking structure with them to be certain they left. He watched the car drive out of sight then ran back into the basement. With most of the employees out of the building no one would come into the service area that night. He quickly began wiring the pipes into place on the gas lines to the furnace. He tipped each pipe with a length of lamp wick then twisted the wicks together to form one long fuse. After he had finished with the wiring he went to the water tank for the sprinkler system.

Dean had made sure that the building was up to safety codes and had a state of the art fire system in place. The sprinklers went on in every room in the hotel and casino including the service areas as soon as the first hint of smoke hit the sensors.

Kneeling down beside the cistern door he pulled the rosary beads out of this pocket and began the blessing. The Latin rolled off his tongue with ease. When he had finished he dropped the rosary into the water tank and closed the cistern door.

Glancing at his watch he smiled when he saw that it was a quarter after six. The entire group of people Dean had assembled would be at the tables in the casino. John stood up. With a sigh he soaked the fuse he had made with lighter fluid then dropped a match on the wicks. The heavy duty twine caught and the fuse burned quickly.

John was at the door of the service porch when the first bomb went off. The concussion rocked the building, and the alarm system went off. Over the blaring of the siren John could hear the next consecutive bomb igniting. They went quickly. He had thought he might make it out to the street before the gas lines went but he doubted it. He hauled the porch door open and ran.

The basement wall blew. John turned as the foundation of the building rattled. The bricks from the basement wall hit the service porch walls and the older construction gave. John was buried in an avalanche of brick and mortar.

As soon as the basement blew the gas lines erupted in flames. The casino was right above the furnace area and the floor caved in from the explosions. As the flames licked at the carpeting the sprinklers came on. The massive throng of demons scrambled for the door, but the holy water hit them, and they began to writhe and scream.

An hour later the fire crews were picking through the massive carnage at the Winchester Golden Devil Casino. They had gotten the fire under control as soon as the gas to the furnaces was shut off. Remarkably little of the upper structure was burned. The Fire Captain credited the sprinkler system with keeping the fire down. He was confused by how many twisted ruined bodies were littering the unburned areas of the building. He couldn't explain why they seemed burned while being soaked with water.

The search and rescue crew was scouring the wreckage. They had a dog sniffing for bodies buried under the debris. One of the crews was searching the service porch when the dog began whimpering.

"Hey, Cap. We got something here."

The fire fighters began digging through the rubble. They uncovered a body, a man dressed in evening clothes. He black suit was streaked with cement dust and blood. The fire fighter carefully checked at the carotid artery for a pulse. Finding one he shouted,

"We got a live one, Cap. Get the paramedics."

The late night news was playing on the TV at the airport when his flight touched down. Sam looked on in horror as the building that Dean owned was consumed in flames.

The reporter turned to face the camera.

"The cause of the fire is still under investigation however, it appears that it may have been a terrorist act. An anonymous source at the LVPD stated that it appeared that a large number of explosive devices were found rigged to the gas lines in the building's basement."

He was almost in tears when the airport security reached him.

"Mr. Winchester? Sam Winchester?" the woman asked. Sam nodded.

"Oh thank god. I was told by the police to keep an eye out for you. We're to take you to Mercy General Hospital. A Mr. John Winchester was taken there from the wreckage of the Golden Devil Casino earlier this evening."

Sam sat at the side of his father's bed. He sighed with relief when his father opened his eyes. John smiled.

"Oh god, I was so scared, Dad."

With a grin John twisted the fingers of his good hand around his son's fingers.

"Sammy, say that again…"

"Say what again, Dad."

"Oh god, I haven't heard that in so long." John's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he laughed at Sam's confused face. "Nothing, I'm glad you came. Even if…You might as well know. It's my fault Sammy. It's my fault that Dean is dead."

"I knew you blew up the building, Dad."

"How?"

"The gas lines were rigged with about ten times the number of pipe bombs necessary to blow the thing up. You always had a thing for big explosions, Dad. I used to think you got off on blowing things up."

John glanced around conspiratorially and lowered his voice.

"Well, truthful, I do think that I got a hard-on when it went up." John winked and Sam blushed.

"I got 'em Sam, every damn one that he brought over. It took me two long years but I got 'em. I made sure it was a night when almost no humans were in the casino, but there was some collateral damage. Mostly they were people that wanted in with Dean and his followers. I know that there are more out there, and other things too. But at least _He's_ gone." John paused as if waiting for recriminations from his youngest child.

"It's okay, Dad. You did good. I know what Dean did to you," Sam said.

John looked grateful, and Sam felt his breath hitch in his chest. Finally, John squeezed his hand.

"I'm going to be here for a few days, but you go back to school if you need to. I made sure that Dean had it all paid for, and there's money for you too. In a savings account. The bank has the book just ask for it," John said smiling.

"I can stay, Dad. I called my professors and they're e-mailing me all my assignments. I want to stay."

"Good, I want you to stay, Sammy. It's been too long," John sighed.

He looked sleepy and Sam started to rise, but John pulled him back down.

"Sammy, there is a couple of things you can do for me. My journal is in a safe deposit box at Bank of America. I put you on the signature card. Sorry, I kind of forged your signature. And the Impala is at the 6th Street Garage. I had it rebuilt bow to stern. It looks just like the old days," John smiled. "Pick 'em up for me. And go by a store and get me a couple of pairs of heavy duty jeans and some hiking boots, and a good heavy jacket. When I get out of here I've got things to do."

The End


End file.
